ent for parents on how they shall treat their children?"

This was wholly unexpected. The son could feel the blood mounting
to his face. It was as if he had done something dreadful, and been
caught at it.

"But my dear father!" he protested, "I've never said or thought--"

"True," the old man struck in, turning now to his guests. "I know
you will hardly believe what I tell you, but it's a fact that this
son of mine has never spoken an unkind word to me; neither has his
wife."

These remarks were not addressed to any one in particular, nor did
any one feel disposed to respond to them.

"They have been put to some pretty hard tests," Ol' Bengtsa went
on. "It was a large property they were deprived of. They could have
been landed proprietors by this time if I had only done the right
thing. Yet they have never uttered a word of complaint and every
summer they pay me a visit, just to show they are not angry with
me."

The old man's face looked so dead now, and his voice sounded so
hollow! The son could not tell whether he was trying to come out
with something or whether he talked merely for talk's sake.

"Now it's altogether different with Lisa," said Ol' Bengtsa,
pointing at the daughter-in-law with whom he lived. "She scolds me
every day for not holding on to my property."

The daughter-in-law, not in the least perturbed, retorted with a
good-natured laugh: "And you scold me because I can't find time to
patch all the holes in the boys' clothes."

"That's true," the old man admitted. "You see, we're not shy; we
say right out what we think and tell each other everything. What
I've got is hers, and what she's got is mine; so I'm beginning to
think it is she who is my real child."

Again the son felt embarrassed, and troubled as well.

There was something the old man wanted to force from him--something
of a personal nature; but surely he could not expect it to be
forthcoming here, before all this company?

It was a great relief to the son of Ol' Bengtsa when on looking up
he saw Lars Gunnarson and his wife standing at the gate. Not he
alone, but every one was glad to see them. Now it was as if all
their gloomy misgivings had suddenly been dispelled.

Lars and his wife made profuse apologies for being so late. Lars
had been suffering from a bad headache and had feared he would not
be able to come at all; but it had abated somewhat so he decided to
come to the party, thinking he would forget about his aches and